Adrenaline
by Deep24Blue
Summary: Wanda Ford escapes to New York city, away from the blood-thirsty clutches of the man who's after her. In order to keep her family and her only remaining brother safe, she buries herself in New York. When Ian O'Shea - wealthy businessman - comes into her life, will he be able to unravel Wanda's dark past and help her fight? Or will he lose his life in the process?


**_Disclaimer: _**_I do not own "The Host"_

**_Chapter One:_**

'Room number twenty-four,' said the receptionist, banging down an old and rusty key on the wooden counter in front of me.

I looked at the key. It looked like it had been passed through many fingers and clutches, thus becoming so worn out. And my hand happened to be the next to rent the apartment for which this key was meant for. I had a look around it before deciding to move in. It did not look so sophisticated and an owner of a large space, but it will do for me.

A middle aged man with a lanky shirt and faded jeans picked up my one and only bag which contained the limited number of clothes I had and my toiletries. I had nothing more.

I followed the mute man through the long and musty corridor that led away from the tiny reception. The walls had peeling wallpaper, with the fabric dyes wearing off. It was difficult to make out what kind of design was on it. But I was least bothered about it. We turned a corner at the end. As I passed through the first corridor, I crossed ten doors. This was a three-storey building. So my room happened to be on the top floor. There was no lift however, though never can one expect such a technology to be present in this environment.

I climbed the rickety staircase, following the man.

Finally we reached my door, which was located a door away from the far corner, which was situated near a window. I could come out for fresh air if I wanted.

I turned the key in the lock and with a loud click, the wooden door opened, revealing the small living room at the entrance. A sofa was squashed to the wall, looking over at the little television. The next room was the kitchen, with a door leading off to the bedroom and the bathroom.

It looked okay to suit me.

After all, this was all I could afford.

The man set my bag in the living room and I handed him five dollars as a tip, thanking him.

'I hope you enjoy your stay, Miss Ford,' he said.

'Wanda,' I corrected him. 'You can call me Wanda.'

'Okay,' he agreed, smiling. 'Enjoy your stay, Wanda.'

He went out of the room, closing the door behind him.

As soon as he was gone, the little smile on my face instantly vanished. I was in no mind of doing this simple action.

Not bothering to unpack my bags, I sat down on the sofa, staring at nothing in particular.

Here I was, twenty year old Wanda Ford, in this big city called New York, or so they call "The city that never sleeps". All alone, away from my family.

This was the most difficult choice to make, moving so far away from Alaska, away from my mother and father and my … my … my _brother._

The last word made my eyes to secrete anguish, sadness, hurt and pain in the form of tears. Salty liquid that was transparent to show off all these feelings of agony. My stomach heaved and my chest felt heavy, as my heart turned to iron, weighing infinite feelings that threatened to overtake my body and provoke me into picking up a knife and slicing through my wrist, right at the point where an artery ran so that blood could spill out, killing myself.

I shuddered.

No, I cannot do that. That would be … selfish. Leaving this world for my benefit and leaving my parents in the worst days of their lives forever. I can't do this to them.

More tears fell down my cheeks as I imagined my mother, the kindest woman on earth. Her blue eyes will lose all the hope and those lips will not crack a smile again. My father, the purest man on earth, would turn to stone and will not move a muscle.

And my little brother … he would do something that I did not even want to think about.

His face flashed through my mind, tearing me into pieces. He was the only brother I had left. Just eighteen, but he was far matured than I could give him credit. My only sibling that was … was … was _spared. _

Spared from the brutal clutches of –

_Knock. Knock._

My heart jumped to my throat, my skin perspiring. No, please no.

_Wanda, it's not … him. This must be someone else._

I listened to the voice in my mind. _He_ couldn't come here. No, he cannot; that is not possible. I came to this city to protect my family and myself. After all my efforts in trying not to fall into _his _cruel vision, God could not fail me. I trusted Him to have mercy on me and bring me here safely.

I was not going to lose my faith in God.

So I stood up and walked to the door, reaching out s slightly trembling hand to open it.

I wrenched it open, praying my best hopes, and was utterly relieved to see that it was only the man back again.

'Wanda, I brought some room freshener,' he said, handing me a metal cylinder with a nozzle on the top. A scent of lavender aura swum around it.

'Thank you,' I managed to say out, taking it from him.

He went away and I shut the door, trying to control my fast beating heart and pressing my hands to my face.

I had to stop being paranoid over every noise.

_He _was not going to find me here.

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